Beethoven's Power According to Solomon

I just finished reading Maynard Solomon's meticulous, fascinating, and revealing biography of Beethoven, and I was struck by a discussion from the final chapter. In it, Solomon mentions how modern generations–particularly those following the Second World War–have turned away from works such as the Ninth Symphony, which in its unsurpassed beauty and idealism, supposedly "anaesthetizes the anguish and the terror of modern life, thereby standing in the way of a realistic perception of society." This view was immortalized in the works of serialist composers such as Pierre Boulez and in the famous plea of Adrian Leverkühn, a fictional composer in Thomas Mann's novel Doctor Faustus: "I want to to revoke the Ninth Symphony."

Solomon, however, completely rejects this position in a remarkable passage about the optimistic, life-affirming possibilities inherent in Beethoven's music:

"The fatal (and destructive) misconception underlying such attitudes is this: if we lose our awareness of the transcendent realms of play, beauty, and kinship that are portrayed in the great affirmative works of our culture, if we lose the reconciling dream of the Ninth Symphony, there may remain no counterpoise against the engulfing terrors of civilization, nothing to set against Auschwitz and Vietnam as a paradigm of humanity's potentialities. Masterpieces of art are instilled with a surplus of constantly renewable energy–an energy that provides a motive force for changes in the relations between human beings–because they contain projections of human desires and goals that have not yet been achieved (which indeed may be unrealizable). . . . The symbols of perfection (which Schiller called "the effigies of [the] ideal")–the Ninth Symphony and the late quartets, the trumpet call of Fidelio, the "heiliger Dankgesang," the festal paradise of the Seventh Symphony, the Bacchic resurrection of the Eroica finale–these keep alive humanity's hopes and sustain faith in the possibilities of renewal." 

Beethoven may have been a deeply flawed person, but his music sets an impossibly high moral standard–a challenge for future generations to continually strive for the beauty and perfection that he realized through art.

Syracuse Symphony's Beethoven Festival, Part Deux

With its recently concluded Beethoven Festival, the Syracuse Symphony Orchestra wanted to take listeners on a three-part journey into the music--and mind--of history's greatest composer. They presented several unique opportunities that aren't usually found in concert halls--a listening station that tracked Beethoven's progressing deafness and Beethoven trivia and fact sheet inserts to the program, among others. The most original and insightful was a demonstration by music director Daniel Hege prior to the performance of the Eroica Symphony; he took listeners on a brief guided tour through Beethoven's detailed sketch books, tacking the development of many of the Eroica's revolutionary passages. Very rarely do these pre-performance talks yield anything worthwhile, but Hege's presentation was fascinating, and I think we all learned something about Beethoven's compositional process.

The music itself, however remained the central focus. After the previous weekend's ragged performance, Hege and the SSO delivered an impassioned program on Friday, January 25. The opening piece, the Second Romance for Violin and Orchestra, was perhaps not the best choice; it's calm, subtle lyricism did little to grab the audience's immediate attention. Hege and soloist Andrew Zaplatynsky, the orchestra's concertmaster, combined for a restrained yet beautiful performance. I only wish they had gone further in their reading--more expressive phrasing, dynamics, and rubato. It seemed calculated rather than organic.

Restraint was nowhere to be found in the fiery, passionate performance of the Seventh Symphony. On occasion, particularly in classical and romantic works, Hege has chosen sluggish tempos, but he stormed through Beethoven's most energetic symphony, pushing the music and the orchestra relentlessly forward. In fact, Hege nearly took a tumble off the podium following an enthusiastic cue to the cellos and basses. Even the celebrated second movement, which some conductors seem convinced is a funeral march, maintained a moderate tempo--after all, it is an allegretto! The performance's overall impact was tremendous, as Hege grabbed his audience from the introduction's first notes and only released them after the blazing finale.

After intermission, the SSO was joined by an exceptional cast of soloists for a performance of excerpts from Fidelio, Beethoven's only opera. The biggest celebrity in the cast was Vinson Cole, an international superstar who has worked with many of the world's leading orchestra and conductors, including Herbert von Karajan, Sir Georg Solti, and others. He sang an expressive Florestan, yet at 57 years old, his voice has begun to show its age, losing some of its resonance. Soprano Aimee Willis, on the other hand, was at no loss for power; she soared effortlessly over the orchestra, particularly in a stunning series of high notes. I've only lived in Syracuse for seven months, but she may be the one of the best voices to appear in this area in recent memory. Two basses rounded out the main cast. Richard McKee, the recently retired artistic director of Syracuse Opera, sang Rocco with dignity and compassion. Jimi James, a popular local singer blessed with a dark, enormous tone, was a menacing Pizarro. Janet Brown, Eric Johnson, Robert Allen, and the Syracuse University Oratorio Society performed smaller roles well enough, but compared to the command and strength of the four principals, they were merely lost in the background.

For me, this was the most impressive concert the SSO has given all season. On more than a few occasions, I have accused them of mailing it in during a performance, merely sleepwalking on stage. Likewise, Hege's energy can also wane at times. But no one could question the commitment of the musicians on this night. It was refreshing and invigorating to hear--and see--them so passionately involved in the music. Of course, with their newfound fire and passion comes a loss of tonal beauty, particularly in the brass. Much like in last weekend's Eroica, chords often turned harsh and shrill as Hege exhorted them to play with ever increasing intensity. The strings, however, seemed to find another level in the Seventh Symphony, playing with more depth and resonance than I had yet heard from them.

I've enduring several uninspired concerts, but this performance demonstrated that the SSO can do much better. They may never play with the power, precision, and beauty of the New York Philharmonic, but they can bring energy, dedication, and emotion to a piece. And when they do, the results are evident. People go to concerts to be transported beyond the concerns of everyday life and to another world entirely. We go to concerts to be inspired, and if they so choose, the Syracuse Symphony surely has that ability.

(Photo by Christian Steiner)

Syracuse Symphony's Beethoven Festival, Part I

Throughout January, the Syracuse Symphony Orchestra has devoted three concerts to a celebration of Beethoven and his timeless music. Many classical music lovers likely grew up listening to Beethoven, developing an thorough knowledge of his music. In fact, the man sitting next to me conducted practically ever bar of the concert with his hand in his lap; he barely missed an entrance all night. And I'm sure he wasn't alone.

It begs the question, what purpose does a mini-festival of solely Beethoven's music--with the exception of a Mozart horn concerto--serve? Personally, I can't get enough. Beethoven was history's greatest composer, and I deeply love his music. Much like the New York Philharmonic, which has presented "Brahms the Romantic" (duh, could Brahms be anything but a romantic?) and "The Tchaikovsky Experience" in recent years, the SSO now celebrates a composer we all know intimately.

For me, the series is a marketing strategy, which is perfectly reasonable. To remain viable, orchestras need to make money, and Beethoven is big business. His masterpieces put bodies in seats--a major issue for the Syracuse Symphony, which has struggled with meager attendance all year. The orchestra included several attractions not typically found at a classical music concert--a clever listening station where people could hear music "through Beethoven's ears," taking his deafness into account; a pianoforte, the type of keyboard on which Beethoven performed and composed; and a wide variety of recordings of Beethoven recordings. Ideally, orchestras should present festivals spotlighting the composers we should know more intimately--Mendelssohn, Schumann, Schubert, or one of many important 20th century masters. Bard College has done this at its summer concerts, focusing on Shostakovich, Copland, and Janacek in past season. But they are well financed; orchestras like the Syracuse Symphony will continue to program based on both artistic and monetary considerations.

The performance itself was uneven. After a plodding, sluggish reading of the Coriolan Overture, pianist William Wolfram joined the orchestra for the Second Piano Concerto, a work in Beethoven's classical style. Wolfram and conductor Daniel Hege seemed in disagreement throughout the performance, struggling to establish a consistent tempo and expressive approach. I felt that Wolfram wanted a more fluid, flexible beat and phrasing; Hege and the orchestra responded with bland, shapeless accompaniment. If the first half of the concert was a painting, the artist would have needed only one color.

After intermission, however, Hege and the musicians perked up, delivering a brisk account of the revolutionary Third Symphony, Eroica . Hege brought out many details in the score, particularly in dynamics and articulation. I disagreed with many of his choices, but it was refreshing to hear Hege more invested in the music, with something specific to convey. His gestures were intense, often punching and throwing his hands toward sections, like he wanted to start a fight with them. Unfortunately, the orchestra responded with a comparable sound--piercing, ugly, and harsh. In fact, the orchestra, especially the winds and brass, played quite poorly throughout Eroica; they suffered from sour tuning, poor tone quality, and stiff phrasing. Even when Hege tried to shape their passages, they failed to react. The strings were more in sync with Hege, but their thin sound kept them projecting any dynamic range.

The Beethoven Festival concludes on January 25 & 26 with the Second Romance for violin, Seventh Symphony, and a concert performance of Act II from Fidelio.

Leon Fleisher's Freebee Benefits Jacksonville Symphony

In recent weeks, strikes by the Writers Guild of America and Broadway stagehands have shut down two important arts institutions. Those contract disputes have garnered intense media coverage, and understably so; Broadway shows and TV/movie productions draw huge audiences and generate enormous income. Yet a smaller, regional work stoppage has gone almost completely unnoticed.

On November 12, the Jacksonville Symphony Association declared a lockout after failing to reach a contract agreement with the Musicians' Union. To date, the impasse has forced the cancellation of several performances, including a Pops concert, Messiah, and an upcoming Masterworks Series concert. Organizations of orchestral players from across the county have come to the support of the embattles musicians, but their aid is limited.

Thankfully, one of the most renowned and accomplished musicians of our generation has taken notice. Leon Fleisher, a legendary pianist and teacher and 2007 Kennedy Center Honoree, donated his services for a benefit concert held on Friday, December 20 at the University of North Florida. Fleisher conducted musicians of the Jacksonville Symphony Orchestra in two works by Beethoven: the Overture to Coriolan and the Fifth Symphony; he was joined by his wife Katherine for Mozart's Concerto for Two Pianos, which he directed from the keyboard.

Audiences on the First Coast have long enjoyed the JSO's wonderful performances, yet Friday's concert was unusually special. Fleisher's dramatic, muscular Beethoven interpretations contrasted with the weightless, elegant Mozart. His playing was crisp and straightforward, but featured crystal clear textures; his sound seemed to ring in the air.

While the performance itself was memorable, the sentiment behind it cannot be overstated. Now without their full-time jobs, the musicians displayed enormous passion, performing with fire and energy. Unlike many subscription concerts, they were not simply going through the motions.

Concertmaster Philip Pan accused management of putting finances ahead of the audience while emphasizing the musicians' desire to return to the stage. According to him, money becomes important only when it distracts them from making music. One would be very naive, however, to believe that money isn't at the heart of the complaints of the Musicians' Union.

Yet both sides must soon recognize that their dispute yields no winners, and one must only look to professional sports to realize how quickly the publics grows frustrated with work stoppages. The audience--and the music--are the real victims.

Returning to the stage for a third curtain call, Fleisher took the microphone and read the words of a man who overcame far more than financial troubles in the pursuit of his art: "Music is a higher revelation than all wisdom and philosophy." The speaker: Ludwig van Beethoven.

Welser-Möst, Cleveland Orchestra Speed through Beethoven

Will audiences ever tire of the “Ode to Joy?” It appears unlikely, as orchestras worldwide continue to perform Beethoven’s crowning achievement. For any significant celebratory event—like the opening of a new concert hall—Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony occupies the top spot on a very short list of suitably grand works, and it will remain popular in the foreseeable future. At least that’s the hope of Franz Welser-Möst and the Cleveland Orchestra.

Welser-Möst makes his recording debut with the Cleveland Orchestra in a performance of the Ninth Symphony, released in October by Deutsche Grammophon. The disc is a compilation of live concerts recorded live in Cleveland’s famed Severance Hall in January 2007. It features soprano Measha Brueggergosman, mezzo-soprano Kelley O’Connor, tenor Frank Lopardo, bass Rene Pape and the Cleveland Orchestra Chorus.

For over 50 years, the Cleveland Orchestra’s reputation in the United States has been practically unmatched. Former music director George Szell drilled the group relentlessly, building a world-class ensemble by instilling the principles of musical structure and clarity. Subsequent conductors preserved these traditions, and the orchestra remains one of the finest in the country. Welser-Möst, now in his fifth season as the orchestra’s music director, is also head of the Zurich Opera and, beginning in 2010, he’ll run the prestigious Vienna State Opera. But with such a formidable past for both orchestra and conductor, the current recording is a disappointment.

Welser-Möst glosses over much of the Ninth in a pointless tidal wave of sound. This is one of the fastest performances on record, which in itself is not a bad thing; many conductors favor a brisk pace. But he shows little flexibility or regard for phrasing, allowing small details to pass without notice. He sets a tempo, and he is unwavering.

This approach is most damaging in the final two movements. While the opening movements are mostly rhythmic and propulsive, the Adagio is a lyrical outpouring that contains some of Beethoven’s greatest themes—models of simplicity and beauty. Yet a metronome could be set by Welser-Möst’s beat. Melodies are stifled, unable to sing. The finale, including the celebrated “Ode to Joy,” also races past at tremendous speed. This is some of the greatest music ever written, and Welser-Möst seems uninterested in savoring it.

The Cleveland Orchestra, however, is committed to Welser-Möst’s interpretation. They deliver a virtuoso performance, one of power and warmth; every instrument can be heard, and the music has rarely sounded better. Beethoven’s vocal writing is notoriously difficult, and the chorus and soloists sing with energy and clarity, particularly the resonant, commanding Pape.

With scores of Ninths preserved on disc, the decision to record another version—particularly in a conductor’s commercial debut with his orchestra—is curious. To serious collectors, who likely already own many performances, this release may be unappealing; to those looking for their first versions, Welser-Möst faces serious competition from numerous monumental recordings, primarily the transcendent beauty of Herbert von Karajan and the intense spirituality of Wilhelm Furtwängler.

Yet the Ninth Symphony may be the nearest classical music comes to a sure thing. In nearly two centuries, audiences have never tired of it. And why should we? Its appeal is universal, stretching across generations and uplifting us still today. Beethoven composed an undeniable affirmation of life, and we return to this work because no performance, despite its flaws, can rob the music of this fundamental principle. The world has evolved since the symphony’s 1824 premiere, but we continue to be inspired by Beethoven’s testament to joy and brotherhood.

Syracuse Symphony, Brentano Quartet Give Contrasting Performances

It's not wise to make assumptions, especially when it comes to classical music. Big names and big halls do not guarantee memorable concerts.

Last weekend, the Syracuse Symphony Orchestra and guest conductor Andre Raphel Smith--in the accommodating Civic Center--and the Brentano Quartet--in the cramped, dated Lincoln Middle School Auditorium--gave two profoundly different performances.

Though technically accurate, the orchestra's playing was bland and lifeless. Inexplicably, this was most obvious in Copland's Ballet Music from Rodeo. This music is a lot of things, but reserved is not one of them. Yet the orchestra seemed to be going through the motions, completely devoid of energy. "Hoedown" is inherently thrilling, but the orchestra tried their hardest to blunt its affect with a moderate tempo and poorly defined rhythms.

The orchestra also played Barber's First Symphony and Poulenc's Gloria, both of which suffered a similar demise.

The Brentano Quartet, on the other hand, was spectacular, adapting their sound and style to the music's demands. And the demands were varied, ranging from dry, sparse Renaissance motets to lush, soul-searching Romanticism. They took the audience through an emotional journey, particularly in Beethoven's Quartet No. 12, Op. 127, one of his last compositions. It was at times muscular and angular and tender. But the Adagio was most memorable.

In his final works--the Ninth Symphony, the Missa Solemnis, the last three piano sonatas--Beethoven seems to have found a higher calling, elevating his music far beyond his already unparalleled achievements. The Adagio professes a breathtaking reverence and spirituality that could convert the most staunch atheist, even for a brief moment, into a believer. The Quartet's performance was almost indescribable. They hit all the right notes, played in tune, and phrased beautifully. But more importantly, they played with tonal richness and weight, and with a purpose and unanimity that can't be categorized by musical terminology.

Sometimes we get too preoccupied by technicalities: Was the balance right? Were the rhythms all together? Was that really the most appropriate articulation? The list goes on. That's the easy stuff, at least for a trained ear, and it's all necessary for a good performance. Yet when a group--big or small--unites behind a single vision, it's magic.

Maybe such performances can't be fully described. Maybe they shouldn't be. But when heard, they are undeniable, touching something deep within us all, something fundamental. And we never know when these moments will occur.